


worship at this altar

by valiantlybold



Series: Bounce A Coin Bingo [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, F/M, Face-Sitting, M/M, Multi, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, and geralt Suffers, and yen in a corset, dom Yennefer, jaskier in a corset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantlybold/pseuds/valiantlybold
Summary: Jaskier and Yennefer team up to make life miserable for Geralt. It's just areallygood kind of miserable.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Bounce A Coin Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905457
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	worship at this altar

**Author's Note:**

> another fic for the bingo!
> 
> the prompt is: corsets!

Geralt knew it was a bad idea. He _knew_ it, and yet, his stupid, idiot, dumbass self still went through with it. What the fuck is wrong with him, why did he do this to himself? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

_“Eyes up, wolf.”_

Geralt’s eyes flit up. He shouldn’t have let his gaze drift to the floor. He knows they don’t like that.

With Geralt’s eyes now back on them, Jaskier and Yennefer continue what they were doing.

Of course, what they’re doing, is driving Geralt insane.

The chains are thin but strong, fastened tightly around his wrists, keeping them locked together behind his back. Yennefer said she had them made to order, then put some finishing touches on them herself. He can almost feel the magic clinging to the metal. Yennefer gave him another thing to wear, too; a thin little metal ring, forged in silver. Except _that_ is wrapped tightly around the base of Geralt’s cock and with some magic influence, is keeping Geralt from cumming.

Beyond that, he’s naked. They’ve got him kneeling on the floor, forced to only _watch_ and _suffer._

They, however, are on the bed. The white walls of Yennefer’s tent flap as the wind brushes by, but he knows that no one can disturb them while they’re in there.

They’re wearing… Gods, he can’t _describe_ what they’re wearing.

[Jaskier](https://64.media.tumblr.com/997a72fd3f814d45ecfa9c92498aca36/c2f48442311f4304-f3/s540x810/597acba91fdac2c9d683b259efb2240f1cef5b2b.jpg) wears a black corset, wrapped in velvet, trimmed with gold. It hugs his thin body _perfectly._ It’s decorative, like everything Jaskier wears. He wears black lace panties underneath. It’s got clasps to hold up Jaskier’s black stockings, and shoulder pads with spiky studs running across them. He’s painted his eyes with black, and his lips too, and dusted his cheeks with gold to accentuate his cheekbones. He looks like a treasure.

[Yennefer](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bf456b01acb39e2daed6836e10a70564/c2f48442311f4304-b7/s540x810/590181c007d674de1262f219016b84934bd19f64.jpg) wears something of the same style, though hers is all black, of course. The collar is slim, wrapped tightly around her slender throat, studs spreading out onto the shoulder pads for her too. Her panties seem to match Jaskier’s. She has curves that Jaskier does not, of course, and the garment accentuates them nicely. Her hips, and her breasts, framed like artworks for anyone to see and enjoy.

Of course, only Geralt and Jaskier are allowed to do so, and only _Jaskier_ is allowed to _touch._

Geralt’s pupils are so wide they must be almost fully rounded. The light is low enough that it doesn’t bother him. He can’t stop staring. They’re so beautiful. They’re touching each other, feeling and fondling and caressing; they breathe soft moans together, sharing a breath.

This is why Geralt’s a fucking idiot. It’s his own fault he is where he is. He begged both Jaskier and Yennefer to just _make an effort,_ with each other. He cares for them both _a lot,_ and feels for them more deeply than he ever thought possible. He just wanted them all to be able to be in the same room with each other, without those two ripping each other to pieces.

To be fair, though, they _did_ make an effort.

Of course, that only lead to them figuring out that somehow, they’ve got a lot in common and one of those things is the fact that they both _love_ torturing Geralt like this. So _of course,_ that’s how they ended up here.

Unwittingly, Geralt ruts his hips; he’s kneeling, though, with nothing to rut _against_ so even that effort brings him no relief. He pants for breath.

The air feels scorching hot on his skin, and like ice when it fills his lungs. Lightning dances over his body. They have barely touched him, save to chain him up, and he still feels like he is right on the edge. Of course, _he can’t,_ no matter how badly he wants to. Yennefer’s magic cock ring makes sure of that.

 _“Oh, Yen,”_ Jaskier moans. “Right there…”

Yennefer is mouthing up the bard’s neck; Geralt can see the kiss-made bruises already blooming into color. He wants to taste them too. He wants it so badly.

Geralt can barely keep track of their hands. They’re all over each other. He wants to be there with them, touching, feeling, enjoying.

He tries to move but the chains hold him back. They’re anchored to the ground. No matter how hard he might try, he won’ be able to break free of that either.

“Jas, keep going,” Yennefer tells the man.

His hand has slipped down into Yennefer’s panties; Geralt can see how the fabric stretches over Jaskier’s nimble fingers while he caresses her clit.

Geralt’s mouth is _dry._

Their bodies look beautiful like this, all wrapped up in leather and velvet and _each other._

He wants to kiss every inch of the temple of bodies, worship what they’ve chosen to adorn their altars with; he doesn’t believe in Gods or Destiny, but he’ll believe this. He’ll believe what he can see and hear and touch and _feel,_ and there is nothing he feels more for in the world than these two people.

Yennefer sighs as Jaskier withdraws his hand from her cunt. She didn’t cum, Geralt would’ve been able to tell. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. They seem perfectly have just reveling in the ongoing pleasure, instead of rushing to the end.

The witch makes a motion with her hand in Geralt’s direction. He feels a tug on the chains behind his back.

“Come here, darling,” Jaskier purrs at him, though remains almost fully focused on how Yennefer’s breasts fit in his hands. “Won’t you be a dear and help us?”

Geralt is relieved when he finds he can stand up. He has been unhooked from the anchor, but the chains remain around his wrists, still. He is a little wobbly as he stands up, the blood rushing back into his legs again, but he finds his balance in a moment. He hurries to the bed, hoping so dearly they’ll let him join them.

And thankfully, _they do._

Yennefer makes another motion; the chain splits apart. It’s still wrapped around either wrist, though it’s no longer keeping them tied together. He can move each hand freely.

They beckon him onto the bed. They push and pull and make him move, make him lay down in the center of the bed and stretch his arms out above his head. Yennefer takes the chains. With another flicker of magic, she chains him to the headboard.

When he looks down, neither of them is wearing their panties anymore.

 _Hm,_ guess there _is_ a good use for magic, then.

Jaskier climbs on top of him first. He settles over Geralt’s hips, hands soaked in oil. Geralt grits his teeth, body fighting against the spell that keeps him from _bursting,_ as he spreads the oil over the Witcher’s cock. Before long, the bard is sinking onto it with a delighted sigh, as if coming home after a long day’s toil.

But before Jaskier can move any more, Yennefer gets on top of him as well. She straddles his head, her cunt places _very_ perfectly within Geralt’s reach. She faces towards Jaskier, and Geralt can hear them already kissing again, hands already back on each other’s bodies.

Yennefer lowers herself onto Geralt’s face as Jaskier begins to move, and Geralt doesn’t know what to feel anymore.

He isn’t quite sure whether to be elated or angry. He _loves_ this, but he _hates_ not being more active. He _wants_ to serve them, he _wants_ to give them pleasure, but he wants to do it _actively._ Not like this, not passively.

Still, he must admit, his adoration of them really does outweigh everything else.

As long as he’s with _them,_ nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> and heres the tumblr post that inspired this!
> 
> [here!](https://technohumanlation.tumblr.com/post/629170045904371712/evermore-fashionroyal-black-the-guardian)


End file.
